Retrospect
by halleyjo
Summary: After an exhausting trip to the movies with the students, Storm, Logan, and Kurt pause to think about the teenagers in their charge. 'Funny, isn't it? How these young, immature, obnoxious kids have us totally beat.' Oneshot.


After an exhausting trip to the movies with the students, Storm, Logan, and Kurt pause to think about the teenagers. 'Funny, isn't it? How these young, immature, obnoxious kids have us totally beat.' One-shot.

My own original character Gwen Wagner makes an appearance, since I felt she lent a hand in the story. Her being here is not random, since she's been in three other stories of mine. Just don't get confused when she appears, for I've recapped what you need to know.

Produced by a combination of boredom and sugar, as usual. I've been working on it for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Retrospect**

It was an early Saturday evening at the Westchester Showcase Theaters, and the staff was preparing themselves for the barrage of patrons that would soon be arriving. All day, they had been handling run-of-the-mill children's parties, providing cheap pizza, watery soda, and entertainment in the form of newly released animated films for the younger clientele. They had suffered through the temper tantrums, the crying, the arguments of the pre-adolescent melodramatics, and the mothers – the smokers who refused to leave the premises, the control freaks who demanded perfection for their birthday darlings, and even the occasional frustrating "Let me talk to your manager" complainer. The workers who were finally able to leave their shifts were casting jealous, wrathful glances at the employees arriving for the night as they walked out of the automatic doors.

They were the ones considered lucky, for they were exempt from the various tortures given by the children and parents. Even so, they would be presented with their own minor annoyances during the following hours, though the consumers at that time could still provide a good source of fun for the workers. At night, business slowed down a bit, allowing conversation to transpire between the staff members. Interruptions came in the form of groups of teenagers and adults, but something that was always enjoyable to observe was the awkward first date. Pairs of all ages would appear at the ticket booth, standing a respectable distance apart from each other before dictating their movie preferences, while smiling uncomfortably at each other. Immediately after they left, the staff would begin to discuss their mannerisms, their clothing, and pass a vote on whether or not they would work together as a couple. It was a pleasant way to spend their time.

That night, however, they would be faced with the oddest assortment of people they had encountered in a long time. None of the workers could have prepared for what they were about to face, but maybe it was that innocence that enabled them to survive the actions of the clients about to visit.

Perhaps 'survive' was the wrong word. At the very least, the incoming customers would supply a kind of amusement they had never before felt.

Simply put, it was a good night for the theater.

-xXx-

Outside, standing next to the well-trimmed shrubbery and wood chips that decorated the bottom edge of the building, there stood a rather gruff-looking man, chewing on an almost finished cigar while studying the movie posters adorning the walls. He appeared slightly disheveled, wearing a well-worn pair of blue jeans and a fraying t-shirt. Although it was spring, it was a bit unseasonably nippy out. He didn't seem to mind. It was as if the advertisements for upcoming films were of greater importance to him at the moment, though truth be told he did look a little perplexed, as if he could not figure out what the attraction was. It was a bit peculiar for someone to be on their own at the theater, because most were there to spend time with others.

A moment passed, however, and he suddenly had a companion. A striking, Junoesque young woman with dark skin and shockingly white hair was hurrying through the parking lot, hugging her denim jacket to her slender frame in an effort to keep herself warm as she walked up to the man. When she reached him, she tapped his shoulder lightly and waited patiently as he turned around slowly, disgruntled.

"Come on, Logan," she instructed. "Kurt's at the car. Put out your cigar and help us with the kids." She swiveled around and began marching in the same direction, her face still turned towards him as she beckoned with her hand. Logan sighed irritably.

"All right, Storm," he grunted, considering the rest of his cigar with longing before stubbing it out in the ashtray next to him. Then, flexing his hands, he followed the woman into the parking lot, looking resigned.

The two didn't have far to go. A few yards ahead of the pair was a large mass of teenagers, all heading towards the theater – albeit at a dreadfully slow pace. The noise they were supplying was near deafening. If one were actually there, they would not be able to distinguish any conversation. Even so, the adults in front of them had spent enough time listening to the previous individual discussions of the youths to know exactly what they were talking about: the opposite sex, clothing, and, if they were in an intellectual mood, how great it would be if they all had their own cars. One of the grown-ups was aware that she had spent too much time with these adolescents, but adored them anyway. The other did as well, but he preferred to downplay this most of the time - such as now.

"Storm?" inquired Logan, shoving his hands in his pockets as they awaited the oncoming group of teenagers.

"Yes?" Her response disguised a small moan, as if she was expecting this sort of thing from him.

"I really don't want to be here."

"Yeah." The sigh she had been restraining was suddenly released in exasperation towards her comrade. "Yeah, I know, Logan." Storm distracted herself by taking a head count of the group, mouthing quietly and keeping tally with her fingers. "We're a few short. You stay here with the kids; I'll go to the car and check for the rest of them." She began moving back into the parking lot, leaving the man alone on the sidewalk as the children approached.

"Wait. What do I do with them?"

Storm barely turned around, but all the same, it was easy for Logan to see how much this question both aggravated and amused her. "All you have to do is make sure they don't get hit by cars."

He shrugged, surveying the teenagers indifferently. "Fine."

The woman scarcely heard this final statement, for she had continued walking ahead. When she had added up the kids, she had discovered that about five or so of the group that had been brought to the theater with her were missing, and assumed that they were with her other colleague, Kurt Wagner. The three adults were all teachers at the Xavier's Institute boarding school, educating and caring for the adolescents there. It also happened that everyone, both grown person and youth, was a mutant.

The Institute was a safe haven for these people, away from the fear of an uneducated society. There, the children were trained to control and use their mutations for good. Together, they formed a team they referred to as the X-Men, protecting both their own kind and humans, trying to create a civilization where genes did not dictate how certain people were treated and regarded.

However, none of them could be expected to defend every moment of every day – they did, after all, have their own personal lives, and they were still a school full of teenagers. That said, normal excursions and activities were constantly planned. A trip to the movies happened to be one such outing.

They had taken two vans to the theater, since only the kids over sixteen years of age were allowed to view the film they were planning to see, and that happened to be a minimal amount. Back at the school, the other teachers, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and the headmaster, Professor Xavier, were with the younger students. They had arranged something quiet for that night. Most of the children would be in bed by the time the older adolescents returned.

A small smile appeared on Storm's face as she reached their cars, for she had at last located the missing kids and Kurt. They were walking towards the building, all engaged in their own private conversations – a girl, Rogue, and her boyfriend Bobby were talking animatedly. Her mutation unfortunately prevented her from touching anyone without absorbing their life force, but the two seemed to have found their own way of dealing with this obstacle. There was also an Asian girl named Jubilee with them, talking loudly, although not to anyone there: her cell phone was practically glued to her ear. Beside them, there stood an older man, Kurt, with rather pale skin and dark, curling hair, doing what looked like arguing with his considerably younger niece Gwen, who was taking three steps for every one he made. She was much shorter than him – actually, she was much shorter than most people – but they did have a few features in common. She had the same blackish ringlets, although they had been straightened into a bob. It also appeared that they had the same skin color, but those who knew the man well understood that this was not the case.

Kurt was a mutant of an extraordinary sort: most of them appeared quite human, but in his natural state, he had the oddest combination of characteristics. He had black-blue skin, amber yellow eyes, pointed ears and fanged teeth, along with three-fingered hands and two-toed feet. It could be said that he resembled a demon, but this was most definitely not the case – he was of deep Catholic faith, and got along with the children extremely well.

However, the public had a habit of being frightened by his appearance. To resolve this, he had been given an image inducer, a watch-like device that projected a more human facade over him. He was still getting used to it, as were those accustomed to his regular look. When they were outside of the Institute, Storm often had to stop him from fiddling with the wristband of the apparatus, so as not to bring attention to himself. He usually stopped straightaway, but began instead to shuffle around in his ill-fitting shoes, therefore defeating the purpose. It was a given that, when in the open, he would be exhibiting one of these habits.

As Kurt walked through the parking lot, he was playing around with his inducer, his hand encircling his other wrist uncomfortably. It appeared as if he were doing this subconsciously, for he was focusing on his discussion more than the device. By the way Gwen pointed at her bare legs and shook her head, Storm could only assume that they were quarreling about her skirt length, a familiar dispute between the teachers and, more often than not, female students.

"You're going to freeze to death," she heard the man say as he took notice of her, leading the children over. A hint of a German accent could easily be perceived in his tone.

"I'm fine," the girl responded, making no effort to disguise the annoyance in her voice. "We only have to walk to the building; it's nothing."

He rolled his allegedly dark brown eyes and turned to Storm, awaiting her inquiry.

"Are you ready?" she asked, gesturing to the other teenagers. Kurt nodded.

"We just had a small disagreement," he said, staring directly at his niece once again. She replied by sticking her tongue out at him, a purely juvenile retort.

"All right. Logan's waiting at the lobby." She beckoned towards the group, but walked alongside her fellow teacher, her hand darting out to grab his left wrist. "Stop," she commanded, in a whisper. He nodded, and immediately discontinued his nervous twitching. The peace was disturbed only a moment later, as Jubilee's voice suddenly pierced the air.

"Oh my god!" she screeched in shock, sounding livid. "Keisha – my god! What?...Oh, god!"

Storm jumped, but the others only shook their heads and shrugged apathetically.

"What is she talking about?" she asked, staring at Jubilee's astonished expression. Rogue broke away from Bobby for a moment to reply.

"Her friend's just broken up with her boyfriend. Jubes is gonna stay on the line with her as long as she needs." She nodded in compassionate confirmation, before returning to her previous discussion with the boy.

Storm turned to Kurt, for some help or even consolation, but he had begun shuffling against the tar of the parking lot in his shoes, looking positively deranged to anyone not familiar with him. She moaned.

"It's going to be a long night," she muttered to herself, shaking her head and walking forward.

-xXx-

"It's so...big," Kurt initially said upon walking through the automatic doors of the theater, staring around the lobby with wide eyes. Although this comment was not directed at anyone in particular, his niece took it upon herself to react.

"Don't tell me you've never been in an American theater," said Gwen, her expression of astonishment matching his. "You've been here for two years!"

"I never got around to it," he told her absentmindedly, staring at the lurid carpeting. "Hey...I like this floor."

"Yeah, isn't it spanky?" a high-pitched voice to their side asked excitedly. Kurt looked up. The speaker was one of the students, a rather hyperactive girl named Kitty. She had an odd habit of adding the most peculiar words to her lexicon, but her cheerful attitude made it impossible to find her annoying. Despite this, the man still felt the need to inquire.

"Spanky?"

"Leave it, Kurt," Gwen commanded, before the conversation could proceed any further. Then, turning to her classmate, she asked, "When's Joe coming?"

"He said he'd meet me here in five minutes," she said, inattentively touching her hair to ensure that it still held its curls. "It's our two month anniversary tonight!"

This statement was followed by a copious amount of joyful squealing from both girls. Kurt winced, clapping his hands over his ears.

-xXx-

"Turn off that damn phone, Lee!"

Jubilee glared at Logan, before muttering, "Just a sec, Keisha," before covering the mouthpiece with her hand. "Mr. Logan, I am _talking_ to someone..."

"You've been talkin' to someone since we left," he said, attempting to reason with her, but it was to no avail. She simply shrugged before returning to her cell discussion, which prompted him to try a different tactic.

"Oh...come on...don't yeh want popcorn or somethin'? All the other kids are gettin' popcorn."

"No, Mr. Logan! You can leave or just, like, quit it!"

He said nothing, trying to think of a response. Then, in a near shout:

"Get off the damn phone, Lee!"

-xXx-

"Oh, _wow_," Gwen whispered, her eyes suddenly growing wide. She had followed Kurt over to the ticket booths as he purchased the vouchers for the group. Kitty had spotted her boyfriend a little while before, and stopped mid-sentence to run up and hug him. Neither the girl nor the man had seen her since. The former, as was her usual manner, had begun to pester the latter with inane questions. It was evidently wearing him down, but she didn't seem to notice.

However, she had gotten distracted from her mission when she laid eyes on one of the workers at the food stand. He was perhaps a year or so older than her, sporting a buzz cut beneath his mandatory visor and a relaxed grin. It was clear that he was on break, as he didn't make any motion to assist his fellow employees serve the multitude of customers before them. Instead, he leaned against the glass counter and was talking casually with another boy his age. Gwen was staring at him with a happy beam upon her lips.

Kurt, realizing that she had desisted with her badgering, looked up to see what was wrong, and followed her gaze towards the youth. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Wow," she reiterated, then suddenly snapped out of her reverie and began to hurriedly smooth her hair. "Nothing's wrong. How's my lip gloss?" She adjusted her skirt.

"I don't know. What are you-"

She was already halfway towards the boy before he could finish, standing a little straighter than usual. Kurt frowned as he heard her say:

"Hi there. I'm Gwen. I might not look like it, but I am _great_ at roller-blading."

The boy turned around and looked her up and down, before replying with a larger smile, "Hey. I'm Doug."

Kurt appeared at the girl's elbow with more rapidity than he dreamed he possessed. He knew, in the back of his mind, exactly what his niece was doing, but he was extremely protective of both her and the other children at the mansion. Kitty's boyfriend had had to suffer through seven circles of hell before he and Logan deemed him acceptable. This teenager, on the other hand, was a total stranger, and he wasn't about to watch Gwen flirt with him while he stood by helplessly.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, his eyes briefly flitting over the young man's face before returning to hers.

She wrinkled her nose tetchily. "Nothing. Did you get the tickets?" Gwen nodded at the counter meaningfully.

"Yes. So, who's this?" he inquired, gesturing towards Doug, whose grin was fading as his features took on a more panicked air. Help for the adolescents, however, came from an unexpected source.

Storm had come out of nowhere, rummaging through her purse hastily. She stood next to Kurt, asking, "Do you have the tickets?"

"Yes," he replied, turning towards her and putting a package of paper in her outstretched hand.

"Thanks," she replied, looking slightly less frazzled. "I still have to get everyone together because the movie starts in ten minutes, and I have no idea where Logan is, and Rogue and Bobby have been talking all night, which is surprisingly uninteresting to listen to, and..._Oh_." Storm's eyes darted from Kurt, to Doug, to Gwen, and back to her friend. Her expression was one of realization, as she noted the girl's desperate look.

"I don't know what she's doing," Kurt said, motioning towards his niece. Storm sighed, before grabbing the front edge of his jacket and pulling him away. Gwen smiled at the other woman. Although she was usually laconic around her, for reasons unbeknownst to most, the two females had understood both what the desired event was and what was need to allow it to occur. The man currently being dragged away, despite his futile attempts to protest, would never have helped. It was pure hormone at work now. Were he to remain with the two adolescents, it was certain that it would have turned on him, deleteriously so. Better he suffer through an abasing explanation from his friend, rather than face the wrath of an infuriated teenager later on.

Said youth was currently looking immensely relieved, as she turned back towards Doug. "So..." she began, the smile returning to her face.

-xXx-

"Lee, we're in the goddamn movie theater! Stop talkin' on that phone!"

"Mr. Logan, I'm whispering. No one can hear me unless they have, like, _super advanced hearing_."

Two rows down from the student and teacher, a pair of teenagers from the school was talking.

"Oh my god, Bobby, I bet I love Twizzlers more than you!"

"That's not possible. I _love_ Twizzlers."

"Shh!"

"Oh...sorry, Ms Munroe."

"Sorry, Storm."

On the far right of the darkened theater, a heated argument was taking place.

"Kurt, you're so annoying when you act like this!"

"You don't know that boy. He could be insane; that's all I'm saying."

"You're insane."

After a pause, he responded, "Watch the movie, Gwen."

"Insane."

"I'm not insane!"

In front of the areas where these discussions were taking place, Kitty and her boyfriend Joe were kissing passionately. Had the adults not been so busy, they would have broken them up. As it was, they were presently free to do whatever they wanted involving osculation.

It was difficult to say who was in charge here: the three grown-ups, or the adolescents who could reduce them to nothing with a simple comment.

Maybe it wasn't so hard.

-xXx-

When the group had finally returned to the mansion, most of the lights had been turned off. It was late, but there was the occasional insomniac still conscious. However, everyone was in their rooms at the time, in their dormitories. Even so, this would not have prevented them from looking out of the windows. Had they done so, they would have been able to see the older teenagers and teachers returning from their trip to the movies.

Everyone was talking animatedly, although not all were happy. The Wagner relatives were gesturing angrily at one another as they entered the building. Logan was still trying to yank the phone from Jubilee's grip, but she paid him no attention whatsoever. And Storm was trying to separate Bobby and Rogue, in an effort to get them to their own beds. If possible, they were even more attached than usual – an impressive feat, considering the girl's issues with skin. Around them, the students entered in a herd, one that was large and incredibly loquacious.

As they poured into the school, it was still easy for the awakened children to detect the adults' voices over the noise.

"Turn off tha' goddamn phone, Jubilee!"

"Rogue! Bobby! _You will see each other in the morning_!"

"It was a theater, not a dating service!"

None of which was particularly unusual. Those who had been disturbed from slumber merely groaned and slipped back into their dreams, and those who hadn't simply returned to their previous activities.

-xXx-

As Storm and Logan sat at the kitchen table, reveling in their long-awaited relaxation, the sound of Kurt's heavy stomps reached their ears, only slightly hindered by the wall separating them. Had he been in his customary state – barefoot, blue, and benevolent – they surely would not have heard him approaching. At the present time, nevertheless, he was aggravated and shoe-clad. The combination produced an angry thudding, which increased in volume as he approached the room.

He did not speak as he entered, making the door swing with such vehemence that it bounced against the perpendicular wall and immediately fell back into place, perfectly aligned with the jamb. He didn't pause in his actions until he took the seat next to Storm, smacking the wrist carrying the image inducer irritably. For a moment or so, the only sound that could be perceived was the palm of his hand on his flesh.

Finally, he appeared to surrender by simply removing the device, unstrapping it and throwing it onto the counter with a bit more force than necessary.

"_Verdammt_ contraption," he muttered, as the facade of a human appearance melted from his body like ice on a stove. Glowering at the mechanism, he added, "I think it might be broken."

"It's not broken," Storm told him, before picking up the apparatus and studying it. "The button's stuck because you kept hitting it. Here." She picked at it with her fingernail, and then set it back down, looking satisfied.

Kurt himself wasn't placated, though. He seemed, if possible, even more annoyed than before. It was easy to see him add the image inducer to the growing list of irritations inside of his head. Judging by the way he frowned at the opened case of beer on the table, it was quite clear how he planned to forget these problems.

"I need a-" he began.

"Here," Logan finished for him, placing the beverage in the other man's hand with a compassionate glance – at least, as compassionate as the normally gruff person could actually give. This sort of sympathy was rare, but Kurt was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice. Instead, he used his aggravation as leverage to yank off the cap.

Storm's mouth dropped open slightly, her face showing feelings of both surprise and worry.

"Kurt...that wasn't a twist-off."

He didn't respond verbally; rather, he raised his eyebrows at her before bringing the beer up to his lips. Sadly enough for the three adults, it only took four hefty gulps for him to down the liquid in its entirety.

-xXx-

"I hate Doug," Kurt said loudly, blinking erratically before resting his head on the cool marble of the tabletop.

"How many times has he said that?" Logan asked, looking a little amused by his friend's obvious intoxication. Storm seemed a bit less happy about it.

"Well, twice for every beer...so I think it's about eleven."

"You forgot the one I'm holding," Kurt told her, still facing the counter. "So it's sixteen times."

Snorting, Logan took a swig of the beer in his own hand, while Storm played with the paper label on hers. Both were exhausted from taking care of the kids, and neither of them wished to think about what Kurt's inebriation meant: that the antics of a single teenaged girl had made a man so crazy he'd drunk six alcoholic beverages in one hour.

"Funny, isn't it?" Storm asked, although the question was not directed at anyone in particular. Logan replied anyway.

"What's funny?"

"How these kids – these young, immature, _obnoxious_ kids-" she let a mixture of bewilderment and aggravation creep into her voice at that time - "have us totally beat."

"Aw, come on-"

"They do, they really do! Think about it, Logan."

The man, after a mere second of thought, scowled. "Jubilee didn't stop talkin' on her phone the entire time."

"Same with Rogue and Bobby."

"I hate Doug."

"We know, Kurt."

"She likes him." He finally sat up straight as possible. "Know how I know? She told me. And he knows, because she told him too." He elided several syllables in the process of talking, before sniffing sadly. "Why are they always telling each other how much they like each other? I like you two, but do you ever hear about it? _No_."

"Thanks," Logan replied sardonically, while Storm simultaneously said, "We like you too." He stared at her.

"Oh, I'm a girl. We like it when guys say that. And you're not nearly as mysterious as you enjoy thinking; I know how you feel about Kurt." She shrugged, looking considerably more cheerful. "And about the kids. Don't deny it; you love that you're so devoted to them." Storm smiled. "It _is_ nice, though, to have someone to take care of, worry about, argue with...get really drunk because of..." She scooted her chair closer to Kurt's and began rubbing her hand between his shoulder blades. He grunted exhaustedly.

"Know what else I hate?"

"No, Kurt, what?"

"People always think blue is my favorite color. But that's a stereotype. My favorite color is green." For some inexplicable reason, he took yet another long drink from his bottle, before placing it – empty save for a few drops – back onto the table. "Hey, know what's weird? I have blue skin and red blood – but I'm not purple. I should be...but I'm not."

"That is odd."

"I like you guys."

"Yeah...yeah, we know, Kurt."

-xXx-

Gwen tucked a rolled-up magazine underneath her arm as she walked down the hallway, shifting an icy soda from hand to hand. All she really needed to pass the time was her favorite drink and something good to read – if it happened to be about celebrities public humiliations and overpriced makeup, so be it. She could suffer through anything if it meant getting that one phone call. Besides, she did enjoy the tabloid articles, as much as it shamed her to admit. At least Doug couldn't see through her the phone wires.

-xXx-

In the kitchen, Kurt had spent a considerable amount of time double brewing a large pot of coffee to accompany his aspirin. Never mind that it was noon. He had just woken up, in the clothes from the previous day, with a killer hangover and the barest amount of fleeting recollections from the night before.

He could remember, as he watched the liquid drip into the plastic container, having been infuriated by what was probably Gwen...sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in his hand...being helped into bed thanks to an anonymous aid, most likely Storm. The only thing that remained hidden to his hungover head was what exactly his niece had done to aggravate him so.

All Kurt could really do at that time was pour the caffeine-heavy substance into a cup and wait for the night before to piece itself back together. Sighing, he tossed the pills into his mouth and lifted the mug to his lips.

Suddenly, a memory struck him like a hammer, and he lowered the coffee back onto the counter hurriedly.

"_Doug_!" he screeched, before swallowing the aspirin dry and running into the hallway.

-xXx-

Gwen was sitting by the phone in the rec room on the couch, her legs folded up beneath her. It was still cold outside, so spending a couple of hours curled up in the house with her magazine was easily the most pleasant way to wait for Doug's call.

She had only been there for fifteen minutes or so. However, the thought that he might not contact her at all despite his promise niggled at the back of her mind, fueling her worry. It would be an incredible relief to hear that ringing, but until then – if even – she could definitely tolerate this activity.

Taking another sip of her soda, Gwen turned the page of her periodical. But she was suddenly startled, for the ruffle of the paper was not the only sound she heard in the quiet room. Jumping, she looked up at the door, where the noise had originated.

Kurt had rushed in, panting a little and pointing his oversized finger much more. His shoes were still on his feet, which provided the stomping. Judging from his bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing, though, Gwen knew that their argument from the previous night had not yet ended. She'd heard from a couple insomniacs at the school that he'd been dragged, completely inebriated, to his room by an exasperated Storm at one in the morning. It was easy to predict what sort of indication to his mood the next word out of her uncle's mouth would provide.

"Doug," he hissed, waving his large digit at her as he approached. Gwen sighed, and closed her magazine.

"So?" she replied, lowering her soda can to the table beside the arm of the couch. "From what Jones told me, I'm surprised you even know who I am."

"Doug!" he shouted as a response, hopping a little, which only served to make him look ridiculous.

"Kurt, you are acting so stupid-"

"Boys are idiots!"

"Well, you're a boy. Were you perfect back then?"

"No, as a matter of fact I wasn't! I was an idiot too! But the point is that you don't even know him!"

Gwen shrugged. "What's your point? He's nice."

It was at that precise moment that the phone rang.

She was closer to it, but Kurt had the advantage of years of trapeze work on his side. With astonishing alacrity for someone in his condition, his arm darted forward, seized the receiver, and grinning triumphantly, answered it.

"Hello? Oh, Doug. How nice of you to call."

"Kurt, gimme the phone."

"Yes, I am the man who was with Gwen last night. I'm her uncle, you see."

"Give it to me," she squealed threateningly, rolling up her magazine.

"I'm afraid she's currently unavailable, seeing as she has a very serious boyfriend-"

"You're _dead_, Kurt!"

With that statement, Gwen stood on the couch, swung back the hand holding the periodical and, using all her strength, smacked him on the top of his head. It wasn't a fair fight, for he didn't expect her to retaliate physically, and he dropped the phone in surprise, rubbing his stinging scalp angrily.

However, she cared more about talking to the boy than her uncle's clear irritability. Letting go of her makeshift tool of attack, she fell to her hands and knees and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she asked, in a voice a bit higher than usual. All her previous fury washed away in a second, leaving her as a pleasant, somewhat insipid teenaged girl. "That's my uncle...he was kidding. Promise. Promise!...Friday? Yeah, okay! Eight...sounds great. Here, I'll give you the address of my school...What? Oh, uh-huh. Kurt'll be here, but he won't bug you, I swear. Okay...see you then!"

Gwen hung up the phone, looking pleased. She even smiled sweetly at Kurt, but he had absolutely no reason to feel good because of it. She was now bending down to get her magazine off the floor.

-xXx-

Logan approached the door to the rec room, grateful for the momentary peace of the mansion. If he got lucky, he'd be able to watch an hour of so of hockey before the kids began clamoring for the remote.

As he made his way in, though, the sight of a comfy, serene couch and a silent, cool television did not greet him. Instead, Gwen Wagner was currently inside the room, hitting Kurt with a rolled-up tabloid. They were shouting at each other in a mixture of German and English. Logan briefly considered helping the obviously disadvantaged man, before sighing and reentering the hallway. His hopes for a quiet afternoon of sports announcers and bloody brawls on ice were dashed. At least someone else was suffering too.

"That's what he gets for fightin' a teenager," he muttered darkly.


End file.
